It would be a mistake to view Charles Laughton’s The Night of the Hunter through the lens of realism when it was created within the prism of a parable and filtered through the eyes and bad dreams of a child. Even so, its themes of sexual repression and “female hysteria”, misogyny, serial murder and gullibility are unmistakably adult. Accordingly it was ridiculed during its day just as it is now routinely lauded. But make no mistake, now as then, it isn’t a film for everybody–just those who are willing to watch and listen, humbly and discerningly.

Ben Harper (a disconcertingly young and un-gray Peter Graves) is a desperate family man, out of luck and short on money in the Great Depression south, who does the unthinkable–he commits double murder during a bank robbery and then runs home with the loot and the cops hot on his trail. There he hides the money inside his daughter’s favorite doll while she and her big brother forlornly watch. He tries to escape to no avail. He is pathetically chased down and apprehended in his own front yard, but not before managing to give his son frantic instructions: Take care of your mother and sister; don’t tell anyone about the money, including your mother.

Condemned to the hangman’s noose, Harper spends his last days with a seemingly ne’er-do-well preacher/car thief who is, in fact, much worse than that. The Reverend Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum) is a woman hating serial killer who knows Harper never divulged where he hid the money.

Wisely, Harper isn’t swayed by the reverend’s feigned concern or attempts at “counseling”; he has seen the switchblade Powell has smuggled in. He tells his cellmate where he can go. But Powell is privy to the condemned man’s fitful, nightmare induced murmurings and from them–and the grapevine–he puts two and two together.

Sadly, but–perhaps–fittingly, Ben Harper has his date with the hangman while the disproportionately evil and undetected serial killer is set free. Of course he heads straight for the Harper family home, but on the way he is sidetracked by a burlesque show. The reverend watches the cavorting with the raucous male crowd and becomes incensed as he is aroused. He triggers the switchblade and the blade thrusts menacingly through his jacket pocket.

Harry Powell shouldn’t fool anyone. He looks exactly like what he is. He even has jailhouse tattoos inked just below the knuckles of each hand. L-O-V-E and H-A-T-E.

Yes, he wears the garb of a preacher and carries a Bible wherever he goes but displays none of the virtues of Christianity or characteristics of it’s founder; he is all fire, brimstone and wrath. His mannerisms are those of a stage actor–broad and sweeping as if he is playing only to the cheap seats. When he cries for the lost souls it’s all sobs and no tears.

Still he is tall, square jawed and good looking, so there’s that. Plus he exudes a potent charisma and sensuality that attracts the very women he is so repulsed by–and then some. One of those women is the widow Willa Harper (Shelly Winters).

Willa Harper isn’t a bad woman. She loves her children and tries desperately to provide for them. But she’s weak. She is exactly the type of woman who would take up with the scoundrel Ben Harper and then feel so guilty about it–and so lonely for a sexual companion–that she allows herself to be seduced by a pious fraud much worse than her executed husband ever was.

Things move fast as they did during those times and Willa and Harry Powell are soon married. Everybody is happy, at least at first, except for the Harper boy, John.

John (Billy Chapin) is wise beyond his age which is about eight. He takes good care of his little sister, Pearl (Sally Jean Bruce) who doesn’t know any better than to be enamored with her “new daddy”. Her brother, though, is not impressed. He sees straight through the preacher and engages him in a war of wills.

Deducing that there is no way the boy will be seduced into telling where the money is, Powell resorts to threats and violence–behind Willa’s back of course.

At first Willa, aglow in the blush of being a new bride, is easily deceived. She soon finds out, however, that Harry Powell has a rather odd idea of the marital bed: it is for procuring children only. When she approaches him, he coldly asks her if she wants more children? “No,” she replies. “Good,” he says and then turns his back to her.

Disillusioned by her new husband’s lack of interest and dismayed by his cruelty, Willa gradually allows herself to see Harry Powell as he really is. Though she has convinced herself that Ben threw the money into the river to avoid being caught with it, she overhears Powell trying to coerce Pearl into revealing where it is. When she confronts him with what she’s heard he accosts her with his switchblade. She does not resist. Instead she offers herself up as a lamb to his slaughter, leaving her children to fend off the fiend by themselves.

By the grace of God and some comical bungling, John and Pearl manage to escape into the night aboard a skiff, but not before Powell finds out that the money is in the doll. Passed out from exhaustion they are unaware that the skiff has beached, while the reverend doggedly peruses them on land. He is afraid of water.

Fortunately they are discovered by a kindly old woman (Lillian Gish) who takes in and cares for wandering, disaffected children of the Great Depression. She isn’t sure how she will feed an extra two mouths, only that she will.

Her name is Rachel Cooper. And while she is petite, angelic and truly Christian, she is no slouch with a switch, as John finds out, or a shotgun either, which is a good thing since the Reverend Harry Powell has tracked his quarry to her door.

The Night of the Hunter is a cinematic marvel to behold. It was lushly and curiously photographed in black and white at a time when studios were clamoring for technicolor films. Some sequences–the night time nature panorama in particular–have a strange phosphorescent quality that renders it utterly unique in cinematic history.

Cinematographer Stanley Cortez who also shot Orson Welles’ The Magnificent Ambersons, was a bold and experimental artist. Honing his craft in 40s film noir where he worked with the legendary creator of the genre Fritz Lang, Cortez was able to pull out every forced perspective trick in the book and he used many of them on the economical and inventive The Night of the Hunter set.

Take the famous hayloft scene in which John and Pearl, perched in the loft of a barn, see the reverend’s tiny figure in the distance riding a horse, his distinctive hat silhouetted against the moonlight. The entire locale was constructed on a very small back-lit set, the depth and distance engineered by the height of the loft built almost to the roof of the stage, and the scale achieved by a dwarf riding on a miniature pony.

Although Cortez’s fingerprints are all over The Night of the Hunter, it is not his film. He is merely a commissioned–though highly prized–artist hired to orchestrate Director Charles Laughton’s idiosyncratic vision.

Laughton conceptualized and delivered an overtly stylized film, rife with symbolism and exaggerated angles that mimic the blade of Powell’s ever present switchblade. He used the fairy tale as a motif and was inspired by pen and ink illustrations that were popular in pulpy periodicals of the 1930’s.

Perhaps most impressively, due to his own prestigious acting career, he was able to assemble an A list cast on a 795,000.00 budget that, while not B list, was certainly well below the extravagant multi million dollar budgets of the musicals Guys and Dolls and Oklahoma! that premiered the same year. Fellow Brit thespian and movie star Laurence Olivier wanted the role of Harry Powell but Robert Mitchum won it when, during the audition, Laughton described the character as “a diabolical shit” whereupon “Old Rumple Eyes” raised his hand and said, “present.”

Likewise Laughton’s casting of silent screen legend Lillian Gish was fortuitous. Originally he wanted his wife Elsa Lanchester (who most famously portrayed “the bride” in The Bride of Frankenstien) to play Rachel Cooper but she turned down the part and suggested Gish instead.

Gish’s portrayal of Miss Rachel is nothing short of inspired. She is the light that contrasts the black expanse of the hole in the Reverend Powell’s soul. In the same way, her characterization emphasizes the chasm between gullibility and Christianity; between devotion and religiosity.

Sadly, Laughton’s masterpiece was a critical and commercial failure in 1955. Though American audiences were/are aware of duplicitous men of the cloth, they rejected the depiction of the perverted, murderous Reverend Powell none-the-less. European audiences, largely spared and, therefore, ignorant of this primarily American charlatan, resented the representation as well. Charles Laughton never directed another film. Reportedly he was deeply wounded by his film’s failure. He died of renal cancer in 1962.

But the Director Charles Laughton and his film, like many so many other famous examples of artist and masterpiece, would fare much, much better posthumously. In 1992, the United States Library of Congress signified The Night of the Hunter to be “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”, and selected the film for preservation in its prestigious National Film Registry. It is just one of the many accolades heaped upon a provocative and beautiful film about the humble triumph of good over the seemingly overwhelming forces of evil.

Great post 🙂 I wonder If your story about Jimmy Swaggart in those other posts gave you the inspiration to write a review of The Night of the Hunter? 🙂 I nod in agreement with everything you have said here. This has served as an influence for a lot of filmmakers. Some prime examples being David Lynch, Martin Scorsese, Terence Malick, The Coen Brothers and many others. I love it that you mention Stanley Cortez dreamlike cinematography and of course, Robert Mitchum’s performance. His Harry Powell character really is a “diabolical shit” as whoever hired Mitchum for the part put it. I believe it may have been the director Charles Laughton who said it, but I am not sure. Nevertheless, I am glad you remembered the story for this post. A film like this could have only worked in black and white. While it probably could have worked every bit as well in color, I believe that it’s nightmarish vision would have felt somewhat compromised. Anyway, keep up the great work as always and keep those comments coming 🙂

Thank you John. You are sweet. The Night of the Hunter is my third all time favorite film. I’ve wanted to write about it for quite some time, though with films I dearly love, I’m a little apprehensive–I feel an added burden to do them justice and then when it’s a masterpiece…well, the burden is even heavier. Ha! But yes, I thought with my posts on Swaggart that this would be a fitting time to take it on.
I think you’re right–I can’t imagine The Night of the Hunter in color. I love glorious black and white. I would get so aggravated at my husband when we first got married and he didn’t want to watch a film because it was black and white. Aargh! Fortunately for him, he doesn’t feel like that anymore. Ha!

I have never watched “Night of the Hunter” myself but am aware of its ahead of its time themes and portrayals. Its a film I have on my mental watch list whenever I go film hunting,its just not a easy film to find these days. Mitchum was a hell of a talent,wasn’t he?

I also reviewed this film, earlier this year.https://beetleypete.wordpress.com/2018/04/09/retro-review-the-night-of-the-hunter-1955/
Like you, it is one of my favourites, and I can happily watch it over and over, usually discovering some small cinematic gem I missed previously. Your more erudite and academic review puts mine in the shade of course, but it is nice to discover that we both share a love for a film that took so long to be appreciated for the landmark it undoubtedly is.
Best wishes, Pete.

I appreciate that. Don’t disparage yourself. I enjoy your posts very much. There’s no way I would have the discipline to post everyday, nor do I have the information to make things interesting if I did.
–Pam

The film is a masterpiece and your review is superb at picking up on so many of the film’s high points. The black and white photography in this film makes a powerful case for the art of black and white cinema. Doing this film in color would be a travesty. I am going to share this tomorrow on Facebook. BTW, I am am a big of Mitchum.

John, you are so sweet. Your compliments mean a lot to me. I agree, doing this film in color–any color, but especially the souped up color of the day–would be a travesty. Gorgeous photography. Spectacular film. It’s impossible not to like Mitchum. I love Out of the Past and The Friends of Eddie Coyle too. He was great in Cape Fear too–both of them.

Those angles in the bedroom! Wow it made that room so blooming spooky. Plus that underwater scene is gut wrenching sad and one helluva of an incredible piece of photography. I admit to seeing it only two years ago for the first and loved most of it but dare I say I thought the third act let it down a bit in my eyes. It felt maybe a different director had taken over. Silly me, I didn’t realise it was directed by Charles Laughton. I’ve been slowly working my way through his films. Witness for the Prosecution was so wonderful. Superb read Pam, your love for the film shines through and I can see why you love it so.

Thank you Mikey. It is on my all time favorite movies top 10 list so, yes, I do love it. It strikes an accord with me on so many levels. The underwater scene was marvelous. It is so eerie to make something so horrible so strangely beautiful at the same time. The whole film is like that.
Charles Laughton was a wonderful actor. I greatly admire his skill. Here was a very unappealing looking man and yet he was such a great actor that we come to know him and identify and empathize with him to the extent that he becomes appealing to us. Witness For the Prosecution highlights this quality wonderfully, as does The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
I’m thinking of doing my next post on the movie Tremors. I want to go from revered high brow cinema to an unrepentant B movie that I also love–though not as much. Ha!

Hey Pam, I was on “Wolfmans Cult Film Club” site and I replied to a comment you left for the owner of the site 🙂 It had to deal with the films of Australian director George Miller and I have a blog entry regarding my favorite films of his in case you are interested. Anyway, keep up the great work as always 🙂

Charles Laughton holds and controls the reins of a wondrously executed nightmare.
With Mitchum reveling in pious, smiling psychopath evil. Superb dialogue and even better scary and ominous shadows and silhouettes.
Very well done critique!

Great review! I have heard of this movie but had never gotten around to watching it. Your review pushed me to find it – you can watch it on Youtube for $3. Really enjoyed it. I esp liked the nature and horizon scenes – even thought it was in black and white it really seemed to be glowing. My favorite line was when the boy looking out of the barn says “”Does he ever sleep”. Reinforce the point that Mitchum’s character was not just man or just a criminal but pure evil. Mitchum does a great job playing a psychopath.

Thank you. It makes me happy that I prompted you to watch The Night of the Hunter. It makes me even happier that you liked it so much. It is utterly original.
I love how Laughton envisioned the Reverend and how Mitchum portrayed him. He is pure evil. He is a psychopath–but when he interacts with the children, when he is alone with them, he takes on the specter of the their perception of him–the monster under the bed. Chilling.

Being a Springsteen fan I knew this movie since the character in his song Cautious Man had the same hand tatoo – Love and Hate. Springsteen has said he was inspired by this movie. Added fun fact – Mitchum’s movie Thunder Road was the inspiration for the title of that classic song

Yes, I always appreciated the imagery of Springsteen’s lyrics. He is a poet, no doubt and I’m a huge fan, though sometimes I wish he’d step off the soapbox a bit and get lost in the groove like his idol Gary U.S. Bonds.

Pamela Lowe Saldana resides in the current it city of Nashville where she is the long term CAO of a thriving multimedia entertainment group, though her roots are in the oilfield plains of West Texas; there she draws inspiration and setting.
An avid music lover and professional DJ, Pam's R&B and classic rock record collection at last count numbered over a thousand albums. Her book collection--well worn and loved, mostly thrillers and biographies--is not quite as large.
Pam is blessed with a not so tall, but definitely dark and handsome husband and two beautiful adult daughters. She enjoys hiking, biking and tennis; and, yes, she loves football and barbecue--the Tennessee Titans and Memphis style respectively.